


Old Power

by Vasilisian



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (kinda), (teen death really. not that that's any better), Child Death, Demonic "Angels", Depressing, Gen, Inevitable Ending, Original Character Death(s), Prompt Fic, Supernatural Elements, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, War, writing-prompt-s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-03 20:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12153918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vasilisian/pseuds/Vasilisian
Summary: Nobody could ever figure out the purpose of the swords, not until the war started. Heroes were born, and died just as quickly, the price for their power too high. Caroline had never been tempted to draw her sword, not once in the eighty years she'd carried it at her hip, even after the war started.But when a threat like never before comes to Earth, she may have no other choice but to use it's power, no matter the cost.





	Old Power

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a prompt from writing-prompt-s Tumblr, which always tends to inspire me to write mostly dark and violent stories xD. Ah, how my characters suffer. Poor things. Also, this was written in one go and hasn't been beta-read, so reader beware.

She knew this day would come, it had been inevitable for years.

The monsters that descended from the sky, winged demons that mockingly called themselves angels, had been getting more more desperate to wipe out humanity as their attacks were held back and defeated by the combined might of humanity. It turned out that all the world needed to set aside old grudges and come together was a common enemy powerful enough to erase all life from planet Earth. Who would've known.

After their first attack had wiped out Manhattan and it's entire population in an hour, humanity had cried out in devastated anger and aching loss, gathering arms and pointing them to the sky, declaring war upon an enemy we couldn't see coming but were determined to defeat anyway. And we did, managing to kill the grand majority of the creatures with heavy casualties.

It wasn't thanks to guns, though, or grenades or any other kind of modern weapon that we won that second battle. You see, for years randomly all around the world, some people had swords appear at their hips on the moment their turned sixteen, seeming to have no purpose. If they were drawn, nothing happened, except sudden death two hours later. But with the arrival of the creatures, the purpose of those swords was finally revealed.

A Dutch woman by the name of Manon had been cornered by one of the Angels, and knowing she would die anyway, she drew the sword that she'd been carrying for ten years, deciding that if she was going to die, the least she could do was try and take of of the horrible creatures with her. And she did take it with her, along with three hundred others. Two other heroes, as they came to be known, drew their swords that day, glowing armor of unidentified origins protecting them as they rained fiery death down upon the Angels.

Since that day, many heroes have given their lives to beat back the Angels, and as the war drew one, several things became obvious. The Angels that first came were the weakest of their race, and heroes weren't invincible even when they drew their sword. We found that out two years into the war, when the Angels suddenly sent an entirely a small squad of ten Generals, a much more powerful type of Angel.

Just one General killed two young heroes, cutting through their armor with wickedly sharp claws, their blood dripping off the black talon as the beast grinned, taking great delight in the shocked silence as the fleeing crowd froze as their protectors were cut down. James and Avery had been part of the Hero Devision, having volunteered for swords training after their swords manifested. They were just children, and their life had been cut brutally short, their sacrifice for nothing as not a single General had been wounded, much less killed.

It would have been the end for Denver if it hadn't been for Agatha, a sweet southern lady visiting her son and grandson for the holidays. She'd never thought drawing her sword, not even when the war began, thinking that it would be best to leave it to the young lads and ladies, who were surely more powerful than a middle-aged lady like her.

But seeing those two poor boys cut down right before her eyes hardened something in Agatha, and with nary a word, the woman drew her swords and leaped over to the Generals in a single jump, striking down like a meteorite with power rolling off her in waves, sword growing twice in size as she swung at the General closest to her. It took her twenty minutes to kill them all, and she spent her last hour and thirty minutes saying goodbye to her son and grandson, who had rushed to the scene after seeing his mother on the emergency news.

After that, things changed. The minimum age requirement for the Hero Division jumped by ten years, and younger heroes were held back from battle as older generations stepped up onto the front lines of the war. No matter your physical condition, everyone with a sword was welcome in the Hero Division, you could be missing an arm and it wouldn't matter after you drew your swords, the armor took care of everything, even lack of experience with a sword.

It had been five years since Manhattan was wiped off the map, and casualties had been piling up on both sides, more heroes dying every month as the pace and size of the attacks increased. The only reason humanity didn't lose the war was because the Angels were running out of Generals, the only kind of Angel that could actually do any damage. Instead of sending squads of just Generals, now they were mixed in with the foot soldier, seemingly with the hope that the little guys would tire out or delay the older and more powerful heroes long enough for the General to actually be useful.

In response to that, humanity unleashed something they'd rushed to complete, soldiers infused with dust of fallen soldier wielding artificial swords, less powerful than even a teen with an hour old sword, but still a match for the weaker Angels. That's when the death toll on both sides went from a steady rise into a skyrocket, streets all over the world running awash with blood as the was became that much more vicious.

Neither side was backing down, too invested after all the lives lost, and it seemed like it wouldn't stop until both sides were wiped out, when the Angels made their last desperate move. For three years, the strongest Angel we'd ever seen had been the Generals, and any hero over thirty-five could go toe-to-toe with them and win. Even then, there had been an expectation of something even more powerful, but we could never image this.

Standing at the height of a skyscraper, it's shoulders as wide as a football field and with a set of wings big enough to block out the sun in a two kilometer area, the Mammoth was the biggest creature to ever set foot on Earth, and it killed two million people just with it's landing, the shock wave killing the entire population of Houston and completely destroying America's third biggest city.

In the face of such a threat, humanity threw everything they had at it, hero after hero drawing their swords and failing to put so much as a dent in it's thick hide. Not even Karen and Damon, a sixty year old couple that had been waiting in the wings this whole war could kill the Mammoth, even if they did manage to blind it. And just when it seemed things couldn't get worse, the Angels sent down what little remained of their army, the largest attack ever, consisting of ten thousand weaker Angels and three thousand Generals.

It was the darkest day in human history, with so many dead the death toll nearly rivaled the amount of lives lost during the entirety of the war. All hope seemed lost with the deaths of Karen and Damon, who had not only been the oldest heroes in the Hero Devision, but as far as anybody knew, also the oldest heroes in the world, any elderly heroes having already died during the war.

All except one.

Caroline Jones, a woman that'd spent the past two decades living in a small apartment in Dallas, looked at the sword she'd carried at her hip for nearly eighty years now, then back at the television screen that was showing what most thought to be the end of humanity, and maybe even the Earth as a whole, and decided that she'd lived long enough.

She hurried out of her apartment, for once forgoing the long coat she normally wore to hide her sword, and knocked on her neighbors door with all her might. He was a nice lad that had moved to Dallas six years ago, and had stuck around even when his collage had been shut down thanks to the war.

Daren opened the door, white as a sheet and with shaking hand, tears streaming out of his eyes, clearly having been watching the same thing she had, but any words he might have been about to say got stuck in his throat when he spotted her sword. Caroline straightened her spine, looking the young man straight in the eyes as she spoke.

“I need you to drive me to Houston, now.” Daren nodded slowly, blinking once then running back into his apartment to get his keys and a pair of shoes, and Caroline hobbled over to the elevator, getting in when the doors opened and waiting with a hand on the doors open button after selecting the parking garage. Soon enough, Daren came rushing out of his apartment, getting in without a word.

Caroline looked at the man standing next to her, his shaking hands gripping his own, much weaker swords, sweat running down his face and breath shaky, and knew that he'd realized he was likely driving to his death, and doing it anyway. There was a good chance that she was the only one that stood a chance, not only against the massive creature, but also the army that had come with it, and Daren knew that.

Karen and Damon had died before the army had come, and now there was nobody left that could do anything. Nobody but her.

They drove in silence, the one only car on their side of the highway, the other side full with people fleeing Houston and the army that was slowly making it's way to Austin, which was currently being evacuated. Hells, the whole country was being evacuated, airports were filled to the brim with people wanting to get out of the country.

Caroline turned her gaze away from the tablet she'd been using to keep up with the news at Daren's chocked gasp, the car swerving a little as the vague black mass that they could see in the distance suddenly came into focus, and the two were silent as they got their first in-person look at the Angels last ditch effort to wipe out humanity, clearly not caring about inhabiting Earth afterwards like they had before.

“Sweet Lord have mercy on us.” The words were whispered and broken, not a single shred of hope left in them. Caroline sighed, leaning back in her seat. She'd been a Devout Cristian for years, but the past five years had chipped away at her faith until nothing was left. It had already been shaken by all the horrible things she'd seen happen in her lifetime, to give World War II as an example.

If God was so powerful, mighty and loving, why did he let this horrid war drag on and escalate as it had? The death toll was in the millions at this point, nobody able to pin down an exact number because of the incredible amounts of destruction, bodies being found months later or not at all. Humanity was a weak, bleeding shadow of it's former self, having had no choice but to direct all time and resources towards this seemingly endless war.

“Mrs Caroline, I don't think I can drive you any closer.” Drawn out of her depressing thoughts, the old woman looked up to see that the road was shattered up ahead, and that the massive creature was only about ten several miles away. “That's quite alright dear, I think I'll be able to make my way over there by myself just fine. You head on back, there might be a chance you'll survive if you drive fast enough.”

Daren, the poor young man, shook his head. “I'm not leaving, Ma'am.” He gave her a grim smile, more determination in his eyes than she'd seen in weeks. “You're not the only one with a sword here. I might be young, but I can at least take out the little one, keep them off your back while you kill the big guy.”

Good young lad indeed. Caroline nodded, opening the door and heaving herself out of the car. Daren did the same, coming around the car and holding out his arm, helping her hobble forwards, neither drawing their swords just yet. They would need every last second of those two hours, there was no need to waste it on the walk to their deaths.

Soon enough, though, the shadow of the flying army crept over them, the piercing screeches of the Angels reaching their ears, a few speck of black flying down as the creatures spotted them. Giving Daren's arm one last squeeze, a quick thank you for all the times he showed her kindness, then she let go and drew her swords after eighty long years.

…

Power. Power like she'd never felt before, not even in her youth, rushing through her body, giving strength to muscles weakened by time, the armor of the heroes encasing her body softly, feeling more like a warm hug than hard protection. Her sword, already bigger than most, grew until it was three times her size, and with a single jump and swing, she felled dozens of the small ones and four Generals.

Three seconds. Jumping off the falling body of a General, Caroline twirled in mid-air, her sword singing as it sliced through the bodies of the Angels, more than a hundred dead already as she moved at speeds never seen before. Seven seconds. She could see Daren out of the corner of her eye, dodging around Generals and killing half a dozen of the small ones with each swing of his sword, blood dripping from a cut on the side of his face as she cut down another bunch of Generals. Nine seconds.

She needed to kill the big one. It was the biggest threat, the army could be dealt by other, younger heroes. Ten seconds. It took only to jumps to get to the beast, the bodies she'd used as springboards being pulverized from the force. Eleven seconds. It took her three swings to even make single cut in the monsters hide, bubbling black blood gushing out, a few drops landing on her armor and sizzling as it began to eat it's way through.

Fourteen seconds. Over the years, dead bodies of both Angle types humanity had been fighting had been collected and dissected. Neither the smaller ones nor the Generals had hearts, or anything else in their bodies that resembled human organs, being made up of just muscle and bone, but their heads did contain something that looked vital, and damaging it killed them.

For all it's impressive size, this massive beast looked just like any General or small one, so it was likely that the way to kill it was to destroy the organ in it's head. It's what Karen and Damon had died trying to do, trying to get in through the eyes after failing to penetrate the hide. It ended up killing them, the blood of the beast too acidic for their armor to withstand. Twenty seconds.

It had horns though. Neither the minions nor the Generals had those, and they had a strange look to them. Absently cutting down ten Generals that were trying to sneak up on her, and noting that several other heroes had shown up to deal with the army, giving Daren some much needed backup, Caroline made a decision that would save millions of lives.

Disregarding the head, which was far too obvious of an answer, Caroline instead directed her attention to the horns, jumping off the General she'd been riding and turning her blade just right, ten inches sinking into the strange looking bone and forcing the beast to let out it's first sound, an agonized bellow of pain coming, not from it's mouth, but from the horns. With her hands on her swords and her feet planted on the left horn, Carolina caught the full blast of the sound, the horn violently vibrating under her feet, her head ringing as her ears began to bleed. Thirty seconds.

All hell broke loose after that. The army, which had largely been ignoring her until then, turned their collective attention to her, thousands of Angels flying to her at top speed ignoring all the other heroes, even when they jumped up in front of them with their blades forwards, impaling themselves without care, mindless in their desperation to get to Caroline.

Said woman was having trouble fending off the Angels, as he swords had gotten stuck in the horn halfway up and she'd been knocked down by a General, the shock of it all making her lose her grip on the handle. Now she stood weaponless atop the great beasts head, right between it's two massive horns and an army coming in from all sides at top speed. Forty seconds.

This wouldn't be a problem if she was at full power, she'd just jump back up, punching through any Angel in her way with pure power, except that a hero's power came from their swords, and when they lose their grip, two thirds of their power does with it. So right now, Caroline had the physical power of someone that had carried their sword for about twenty-six years, instead of eighty, plus her balance was shot thanks to her damaged ears.

All this summed up to this. Instead of jumping up and finishing what she started, Caroline was instead knocked of the Mammoth's head by a Generals, her armor thankfully holding up against it's claws, but the physical force still knocking the breath out of her. Vaguely she could hear shouting, human voice just barely reaching her ears, but the ninety-seven year old was too busy squeezing the Generals head like a melon to pay attention. Forty-five seconds.

It burst like a grape in less than a second, blood and that weird organ matter splattering her armor as she continued to fall out of the air, bouncing off other Angels as they continued rushing at her, claws yanking at her armor as faces twisted in rage screeching at her. Caroline continuously twisted out of their grip, knowing that if she kept falling she'd hit the ground but having no choice if she wanted to avoid being torn to shreds if they pulled off her armor.

Two minutes.

It took a while, the mass of Angels around her slowing her fall, but eventually Caroline hit the ground. Well, tumbled was a better word, the bodies of three Generals took the blow for her, but with firm ground under her feet once again, the old woman became four times as deadly, putting all her power behind each blow, not having to worry about getting tired just yet. That would start happening after hour and a half mark, when he body would start failing under the strain of too much power.

Thirty minutes.

Several other heroes cut their way through the mass, surrounding her and cutting dozens of Angels out of the sky with easy swing of their swords, all of them over the thirty-five mark and more than a match for Generals. One of them, an older black man with a graying beard, shouted over the deafening howls, saying that her friend was doing his best to get her swords back to her, and that they would protect her until then, since she was the only one that could penetrate the horns.

Thirty-five minutes.

Caroline nodded, doing her best to play backup and prevent anyone from being attacked from behind, swallowing her scream of grief and rage when she was just a second too slow to prevent one of her other male protectors for getting his head torn off, three Generals having ganged up on him while minions threw themselves on his sword and worming their claws under the edge of his helmet. They paid for it with their lives, but at this point that was worth nothing.

Fifty minutes.

She spotted three more heroes cutting into the swirling mass surrounding her, and thankfully one of them had a familiar face, and was carrying an even more familiar sword. They were nearly to her group, only about two hundred feet away when one of them, a young-looking teen, came face-to-face with a General and the third member, an older woman, failed to intervene in time, his body falling to the ground with an unheard thud.

One hour.

The woman screamed, launching herself at the General, and in her distraction, two others jumped on her back, pushing her to the ground. They lost their heads for their efforts, and Caroline breathed sigh of relief as the woman pushed herself off the ground, readjusting her grip before going back into battle. Deciding that she couldn't let them do all the work, she caught the attention of her two remaining companions, signaling that they should move towards the other group.

One hour, five minutes.

After getting a nod from both of them, Caroline punched the head off a General before making a run for it, shoving Angels aside left and right, not caring about killing blows, just moving forwards. The other two heroes followed at a slower rate, having to be more careful as their armor was weaker, so Caroline was alone when she reached Daren, yanking her sword out of his hand and swinging it in a great arc around her, putting so much power into it, she created a shock wave that crushed every Angel in a twenty foot radius.

One hour, seven minutes.

She gave Daren and his companion a nod, and after waiting just long enough for her two companions to reach them, Caroline shot up into the sky, cutting down hundreds of minions and Generals on her way up out of the mass, bursting out in a spray of dead Angels. It took only a fraction of a second to notice that the big beast had moved on while she'd been falling and stuck on the ground, several heroes desperately trying to cut into it's horns or widen the small gap she'd made.

One hour, nine minutes.

Redirecting her jump was a simple matter of using a General as a springboard, getting her up to it's head in less than a second, her left hand shooting out to grab one of the horns, her momentum spinning her around once before she let go, landing on the head. Already what was left of the army was swarming towards her, and the other heroes abandoned their fruitless work without hesitation, most of them jumping down to meet the mass head-on.

Three stayed behind, and Caroline knew that they would watch her back and make sure she would be as uninterrupted as possible. With not a second to waste, the elderly woman swung her sword at the base of the left horn, ignoring it's bellow of pain, yanking her sword out of the dense bone or whatever it was, before swinging again, putting as much power behind it as she could. Her sword went deeper this time, managing to cut about a seventh of the way through the horn.

One hour, eleven minutes.

A counter had appeared in her head the moment she drew her sword, and with only nineteen minutes left before she started getting tired, and forty-nine until she died, Caroline could not afford to lose any more time. She kept swinging her sword, doing her utmost best to go as fast as possible, her movements a blur as she hacked away at the horn, not noticing the blood dripping from her ears, dulling the sound the beasts bellows of agony.

One hour, eighteen minutes.

There was very little left connected of the horn now, Caroling having started cutting from the other side when her sword kept getting stuck, and with each blow, the horn shook. She didn't notice, but more heroes had arrived, joining in on the effort to keep the Angels off her, a task that became increasingly easy as the army shrunk. Several had even started pushing off the other horn and slamming against the one she was cutting away at, timing themselves to match her blows.

One hour, nineteen minutes.

The left horn broke off without warning, and while some of the younger heroes cheered, Caroline and the older heroes didn't waste a second, flinging themselves at the other horn, the counter in her head steadily ticking away. Ten minutes, ten minutes at full power, then she'd become weaker by the second. Her desperation managed to give her a boost of speed, five powerful swings managing to fit in a single second.

One hour, twenty-two minutes.

The last of the army had been cut down, and the other heroes didn't waste time jumping or climbing up the beast, none of them able to do anything other than wait, all of them coming to the realization that they were going to die soon, no matter what happened. Some turned to others and hugged, wanting this last bit of human comfort before death, while others couldn't do anything other than watch.

One hour, twenty-six minutes.

Caroline had started on the other side, and the older and more powerful heroes were now flinging themselves from both sides, trying to make the horn rock back and forth. Time was ticking for all of them, although Caroline and Daren would be the first of the many heroes gathered to die, not at the claws of an Angel, but because their time ran out. There were several news helicopters flying around the beast, which had stopped bellowing and had fallen to it's knees, softly groaning.

One hour, twenty-nine minutes.

With seconds remaining before she started dying, Caroline started screaming, hacking with all her might at the horn, which was being pushed back and forth by the older heroes, and thousands of miles away, her daughter sat crying on a plane with her family as she watcher her mother desperately fight to kill the beast that nobody else could. And with one final, hoarse scream, the ninety-seven year old woman cut through the last bit of bone holding the horn in place.

One hour, thirty minutes.

Caroline staggered away from the broken horn, a young hero catching her before she could fall to her knees, scooping her up and jumping down off the collapsing mammoth Angel. A different hero had caught Daren, holding the young man gently to his chest as he too jumped down. The heroes moved as a group away from the falling giant, getting far enough away that the dust cloud didn't reach them in less than a minute.

Several heroes offered up their clothes as cushions, and they lay both Caroline and Daren down with reverent care. She huffed, opening one eye to glare up at the sky. “What a horrible day to die. Too much heat, no comfortable hospital bed, and no family to say goodbye to.” Daren let out a teary laugh from next to her, one shaky hand reaching over to hold hers.

One hour, thirty-five minutes.

“I had a second reason for staying, Caroline. I wanted to be there for you when you died, just like you were there for me all those times during the past six years.” The old woman, suddenly looking incredibly frail despite her blood-splattered armor, grinned. “I brought you pie. Lots of it, to try and fill that black hole you call a stomach.” Daren squeezed her hand, an strange echo of when she squeezed his arm what seemed years ago, but was only an hour and a half.

One hour, forty minutes.

“That you did. I once told you I didn't like apple pie, and you brought be three in the space of a month. I ate them all, and every time I brought back your empty plate, you had this smug look on your face, and you always made me drink tea, no matter the time or weather.” One of the heroes chuckled softly, slowly sitting down as he hit ninety minutes. “Tea is suitable for every time and occasion, you young-ones are just an uncultured lot.”

One hour, forty-four minutes.

“I might have made you pie, but that was only because you always insisted on helping me with my groceries, despite our building having an elevator.” Tears started rolling down her cheeks, random memories rising to the forefront of her mind. “Janet, take care of my cats. I know you lied about having allergies, your mother told me, and you know they don't like anybody but you and me. They'd be miserable with anybody else, they'd tear up their furniture, the poor suckers”

One hour, forty-seven minutes.

“Angie, you crazy, wonderful woman, you were the best friend I ever had, and I'll never forget the look on your face when I showed up to your wedding in Switzerland. I forgive you for eloping and not telling me about it. Harvey is a good man, if a bit you for you, and I'm happy you found someone that loves you as much as he does.”

“Daisy, my darling daughter, I know you'll feel guilty for not being here when I die, but I'm glad you're not. If you were, it would mean you were too close to the monster that killed me, and as your mother, I find that unacceptable. I never approved of Garreth, but that's just because I always thought he was much too stuck-up for someone like you. I can rest easy knowing that he would have made sure you were far away from this creature, so I guess he's okay.”

Caroline took in a deep breath that rattled in her lungs, coughing up blood. “My dear George, I'm going to join you soon. I'm sorry I left you behind in that camp. I know you told me to run, but I can't help but feel guilty that I escaped death and you didn't. I'm also sorry that I married another man after I promised to stay true to you. I had a daughter with him, you would have loved her, she'd a spitfire of a woman. I love you, I'll see you in the afterlife.”

Coughing again, Caroline gripped Daren's weak hand in her own. “Lastly, to all the heroes here, thank you. I might have been the one to cut the horns, but I never would have made it in time if it hadn't been for your hard work and sacrifice. You truly deserve your titles, and I am proud to die surrounded by people like you.”

Two hours.

Unbeknown to her, one of the news helicopters had landed not far from the heroes, and had been broadcasting her every word live, all over the world, making sure they reached the ears of those they were intended for. Other heroes were also using the cameras to say goodbye, wishing their loves ones well and some expressing the hope that humanity could continue to work together even now that the war was over.

The 6th of February would be remembered as both one of the darkest and brightest days for humanity. Millions of lives were lost, an entire city was annihilated and seventy-nine heroes died fighting the Mammoth and it's army, amongst which several teenagers under the age twenty. It was also one of the brightest, because it was the day the War of Angels was won, kick-starting a new age of peace and collaboration between all nations even outside of the war.

A monument was built on the site of Caroline and the other heroes death, engraved with the names of every single hero that drew their sword during the war, from Manon, the first hero to draw their sword after the war began, all the way to Andy, the teenager that carried his sword not even for a day, fighting and dying in the last battle of the War of Angels on his sixteenth birthday.

The world moved on in time, but it never forgot.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: A hero may only draw their sword once in their lifetime because they, along with their sword, are rendered to dust soon after. An old hero finally draws their blade.
> 
> Such a sad, but inspirational prompt.


End file.
